A Gallant Captain
by Beagairbheag
Summary: I should only have been a gallant Captain Wentworth, in a small paragraph at one corner of the newspapers; and being lost in only a sloop, nobody would have thought about me.
1. Chapter 1

_Don't hate me…its only the first chapter!_

* * *

She stared out at the sea and it stared right back.

Today it was as still as a mill pond but she knew from her limited experience that it could change in an instant. That the winds could suddenly turn and whip into a frenzy. That waves could appear on the horizon and dwarf a ship. That the rain could begin as suddenly as it could stop.

She wondered what it had been like that day.

She imagined that they where in high spirits, being on the return leg of their voyage. That perhaps there where men lounging about on the deck; talking, singing and generally being merry.

She can imagine the sun being out, shining down on the deck and providing a clear view for miles around, but then the weather changing suddenly. Dark clouds rolling in and all hands on deck as the vessel bobbed on the water.

She can see the other ship approach from the east. For the crew to be so focused on the incoming storm that it takes several attempts for those in the crows nest to alert the main deck about the approaching danger of the enemy craft. Of them finally noticing it and manning their stations.

She can imagine a fierce battle. The men she knew, they wouldn't have lain down and let the French walk over them, they would have fought. Would have given their all. Did give their all.

She could see him quite clearly on the deck. Not standing by the wheel but milling among the men and pulling his own weight, his voice carrying well above the wind as he issued orders for that line to be tightened and for that canon to be tied down.

"Anne."

She didn't react when she heard her name being called but it did break up her vision.

She didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the person walking along the shore wall towards her. She knew who it would be and she knew what they where going to say. She shouldn't really have been out here, but when she saw the sun shining and the reflection that it created on water, it just called to her and she found herself picking up a shawl and taking a walk along the breaker wall.

Margaret Harville sat down by her and they both stared out.

She woman sitting next to her knew how she was feeling. To a degree. She was a sailors wife, had been a sailors wife longer than she had been and had often had to endure long separations away from her husband. Not knowing when or whether he would return.

"I have often wondered," said Margaret quietly, "How something so beautiful can be so destructive?"

Anne turned to the side and looked at her companion. "You did not come all the way up here to discuss the prowess of the sea with me," she stated.

"No, you are right," Margaret said, pulling herself to her feet. "I came to bring you back inside. You shouldn't be out like this."

"A few weeks ago you where complaining I spent too much time indoors." she said, turning back to the water.

"I have no qualms about you being outdoors," Margaret said, "I just wish you'd dress better for the weather. It would not do you any good to fall ill now."

Anne pulled the shawl closer round her, "I suppose you are right," she said.

"You know I am right," Margaret said to her, pulling the shawl further up the other woman's shoulders so that it covered her more. "And where you thinking properly, you would have known that too."

Anne dropped her head. "Can you blame me for being out of sorts?" she asked quietly.

Margaret kneeled before her and caught her eye. "No one blames you, how could we? But you really need to take care of yourself, for now and for after. You are going to need all your strength."

Anne nodded her head ruefully. She knew this, but there where mornings when she woke and just did not feel like getting up and doing anything, let alone take care of herself. Not since…

As she stood, her hand brushed over her swollen belly and she felt a strong kick where her hand touched. A small smile flickered over her face and she found herself placing a hand more securely on her side, revelling in the life she felt beneath her fingers.

* * *

_It is with this papers deepest regret,_

_That it announces the fall of the HMS_

_Aurora. The Royal Navy vessel had been_

_On the return leg of a voyage to Southern_

_Africa, when it was step upon in rough_

_Weather by French privateers and over-_

_Powered with the lose of 187 of its crew._

_Among those announced dead where_

_Captain Frederick Wentworth, Captain_

_Charles Hamilton and Lord Milton, a_

_Passenger on his return to England. It_

_Is believed that a further 50 odd men_

_Where taken captive and are currently_

_Being held in French Morocco._


	2. Chapter 2

_You guys are awesome! I was not expecting the response I got for this!_

_And about me killing Frederick off...you did notice the angst category was highlighted, didnt you?_

* * *

For the tenth time in five minutes he cursed the fact that he had allowed his hair to grow out as much as it had. The man servant he had been given use of in the township in Southern Africa had offered to cut it before he left, but in the end he decided against it. He wanted to see Anne's reaction to it when he returned.

It did little for him now. Too long to stay out of his face in this weather, and too short to be tied back it whipped him repeatedly in the face and trailed extra water from the rain down his face causing him to pause more often to wipe the liquid from his face so that he might see.

He cursed the storm that came down on them without warning

It had been barely six months into their marriage when the officially sealed envelope had arrived by special courier. He had placed it on his desk and stared at it for a long time before finally opening it. It had contained a summons from the Admiralty to appear before them in Portsmouth at a date one week from the present day.

He had spoken to Anne about it, for that was what married couples did, before saddling his horse a few days later and riding out along the coast to Portsmouth.

He had missed her from the moment he could no longer see the house and set out with the determination that he would be gone no longer than necessary. They had wasted enough time without being apart from one another for no valid reason. He would resign his commission if need be.

When he had entered the room and they said that they had a special assignment for him, he should have got up and walked out of the room. Not even looking back once. He had stayed though and listened to what they had to tell him and found himself agreeing to captain the ship with the understanding that they would not ask him to do something like this again unless there was another war.

He cursed the fact that France seemed to be to busy with themselves to worry about the privateers who stalked the their waters and hit on any ship that crossed them.

Anne had taken the news that he was to depart for foreign lands in several weeks rather well, till she discovered that she would be unable to go on this specific voyage due to its nature and then was a little more apprehensive. She had thought that the Captains wife was immediately included in the crew, no matter what the mission.

It had been a specific request of the Admiralty though, that she not be brought along and when they had first mentioned the fact, Frederick had found himself standing as though to leave. They had convince him to stay though, with offers and incentives.

He still didn't like it though. How was he to cope with three months away from Anne when they had not long ago found one another again?

As the current situation unfolded before his eyes, he retracted his earlier thoughts and feelings. He was glad that Anne was not here for this.

They came at them as his men battled to get the rigging under control as the storm flared up. The pirate ship had obviously been using the power of the storm to coast along and so where not.

Had it been the other way round Frederick might have let them pass without intervening. It was a rule in the Navy that any pirate ship that crossed your path was to be hunted down, and their cargo to be apprehended unless other specific orders where given to ignore them. But had they passed them in the storm and they had been struggling to stay adrift, he would have passed them by rather than risk it.

The captain of the pirate vessel was not of the same mindset though and saw an opportunity to attack and see what spoils they could get their hands on. He seemed to have no regard for the safety of his own crew or Frederick's as man after man fell from both ships and landed in the unforgiving seas.

As battles go it was fairly short lived. In the midst of the raging storm and the attack, there had been no one keeping an eye on the surrounding seas so no one spotted the tell tale signs of the breaker waves on the rocks. Frederick's ship crashed head on into them, coming to a stop with a juddering holt.

The sudden stop threw Frederick from his feet and he barely had time to register that the ship was tilting sideways until it flipped over completely, the deck coming to rest under sea level.

Frederick found himself with water beneath his feet and the wooden hull of his ship above him. Hoisting himself from the freezing water, he pulled himself into what had been the below decks, searching for a way out. As he continued to search, without much luck, the water at his feet continued to rise and he soon found himself struggling to find pockets of air.

As the water closed in about him and he could find no way out, he brought up in his mind a mired of pictures of Anne. How she looked, how she smiled, how she laughed; and held them with him to the last. She was the last thing he saw before the darkness crept in and the last thing he thought of till he thought no more.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm aiming for a chapter a day cause this story is just writing itself. I'd still love for you to review though!_

* * *

When the date of his return came and went, she was not too worried. She knew that the dates he had given her, the ones that he was going by, where all estimates and that a large number of natural situations could delay or even speed up their voyage. Even humans could effect the journey with their buercratic nonsense.

Apart from a letter he had sent her on his arrival in Southern Africa and one in the middle of his stay there, she had not heard from him. They had agreed that it would not be practical for her to send him anything as their was no guarantee that any letters would get to him.

She had found out she was with child not long after he had left. She knew enough about the situation to suspect but after a short conversation with Margaret Harville she was certain and when her belly began to expand, even just the tiniest amount, there was no denying it.

After speaking with, and being examined by a midwife, it was decided that by the time Frederick was due home, she would be about five months in and she couldn't wait to see his reaction.

It was when Captain Harville returned from his afternoon walk with Admiral Croft at his side that she began to panic. A look of such sadness and pain was clearly etched across the elder mans face, and it was then that she knew almost immediately that something had happened to Frederick.

The tears where slow to come but as soon as the Admiral placed a hand on her arm they rained down and she found herself encased within arms of the man she had come to see as a substitute father-in-law, breaking down to the news that her husband wasn't going to be coming home.

She had thought nothing could compare to the pain of that day, the pain that she felt with each beat of her heart day in and day out.

That was before the labour pains started.

She had been staying with the Harville's since Margaret had visited her in the house she had shared with Frederick and discovered from the housekeeper that Anne had not been out of doors for several weeks. Knowing that that type of behaviour was no good for Anne and the child, she had convinced the other woman to come and stay with them for a while.

Anne had resisted at first, unwilling to be away from the clothes and items that reminded her of her husband but the Harvilles had been insistent and she had finally relented. She couldn't bare to be parted with the house though, and boarded it up rather than selling the place on or renting it out.

Her pains started right around the time the midwife said they would. They started out small enough but as the hours passed grew in both duration and pain. Eight hours in she was exhausted. Through the pain and confusion that came with it, she often cried for Frederick; wanting him there, needing him there. She cursed at him as well, and it was all Margaret Harville could do but to listen and agree with her, calming her down and crying with her when she retracted it.

The midwife had given her a warm, watery concoction of herbs but it did nothing if not make her feel worse and she rejected a second cup as the night progressed.

"Think yourself lucky," Margaret had said to her when the midwife announced that she was progressing nicely. "I was in labour twenty hours with Allison. At the rate your going, we'll have that babe out here in an hour or so."

Anne groaned as another pain hit her, gripping Margaret's hand tightly and riding out it. "Promise me," she panted when it subsided, "Can you promise me…if anything happens to me,"

"We'll take care of the little one," Margaret assured her, "Don't worry about that. Nothing is going to happen to you though," she said, wiping Anne's brow with a cloth and speaking soothingly to her.

Being a mother of four children, Margaret Harville knew what she was talking about and sure enough an hour and twenty minutes later, Anne was minutes from falling into a deep haustive sleep but was now the mother of a beautiful baby boy.

Sitting propped up in the bed she held him to her chest and ran a finger down his face, memorising the curves and contours of this small wrinkly face.

"He's beautiful," Margaret said, as she lent over and moved the cotton blanket aside to get a closer look at him. "Does he have a name I can go and announce to that lot downstairs?"

Anne looked up at her before looking back down at the baby in her arms. "Benjamin," she said, dipping her head to kiss him gently on the forehead. "Benjamin Frederick Wentworth."


	4. Chapter 4

When the water hit his face and tried to travel down his throat, his gag reflex kicked in and he began to choke. Shaking his head he tried to move from the spray but it followed him around.

"Hold still man," came a voice, "You need tae drink suttin'"

As the water hit its mark again, he gagged.

Twisting over so that he lay on his side, he coughed and threw up salt water in equal amounts onto the sand below him. As he did so, he became a little more aware of his surroundings; everything still unsure and disoriented.

Besides the sand beneath him, there was a gentle breeze blowing and the sun shone down, warming him nicely. He had lost his jacket and his boots, but the rest of him seemed to be all there.

Rolling back onto his back, he ran a hand over his eyes clearing moisture and other remnants from them. He opened them slowly, squinting as the sun light hit him full on and moaning as it burned his eyes.

"Up you get, Cap't" came the voice again and a pair of large arms gripped him at the shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position. Resting his head on his knees which he had pulled up to his chest, he felt a wave of dizziness hit him and he resisted the urge to fall back onto the sand again.

"Ere," the hands came into view again, this time holding a few biscuits. He made a clumsy grab at them, before the other hand grabbed his and placed the biscuits firmly into them. Bringing them to his mouth he caught a whiff of them and he found his hunger, he stuffed half of them in his mouth at once.

"Slowly man. You throw that up, your eating it again. Aint going tae be no waste 'ere,"

He chewed slower after that, washing it down with more water that was handed to him.

As the food began to slowly revive him, and the sun felt less harsh on his eyes, he took in more about his surroundings. The man who was with him was one of the cooks from the ship. A burly Scotsman that could make grown men cower just by looking at them, but in all honestly was really a gentle giant with a passion for both his country and his food.

They where high up on the shore line and he could see drag marks from where he assumed he had been dragged from the surf. The beach stretched for miles in both directions, the pure white sands yielding little information about where they were.

"I've no idea where we are," said the other man as though he was reading his mind, "But I'm mighty glad there was somewhere within swimming distance."

"You can swim?" he asked. He knew that although many men joined the navy as mere boys, very few of them could actually swim. It was one of the greatest killers of navel officers and far outpassed the number of men dieing from wounds and injuries received in battle.

"Me father throw me in a pond when I was little and that taught me quick how to swim. O'course, it wasnay till I was a little older that I realised the pond was only about a foot deep and a coulda stood up had a wanted."

Frederick nodded. His throat felt raw, like he was suffering from a lurgy and he suspected it was due to the amount of sea water he'd ingested and then brought back up. There was a steady thump in his head. After running a hand through his hair, he found the cause of that in a large bump at the back of his skull.

"What happened?" he asked, looking over at the other man. "The last thing I remember is being trapped below deck."

The Scotsman nodded. "I found you on ma own way oot. Hauled you wit' me and waited in the shadows till the other ship hightailed it oot of there. Found a board an' floated of in this direction wit' a couple'o supplies."

Frederick looked around the beach area again. "How did you know," he began.

"Which I direction tae go? Took a guess. Heard one o' the lieutenants talking about them, called the Azores. Owned by the Portuguese. No idea which one we're on though."

Frederick nodded, he'd heard of them. Had even considered stopping at them on the way home had their supplies been low.

They sat beside one another on the warm sand and let the enormity of the situation hit them full on.

They where lost. Stranded on a dessert island in the middle of nowhere.

Frederick felt like laughing. It sounded like such a tale that one read about in a fantasy book.

One advantage they had on their side, was that the island, if it was one of the ones they believed it to be, was inhabited and should they manage to make it round the island, they would hopefully be able to gain passage back to Britain.

As they sat and observed the sea, its waves gently lapping at the shore in a completely different manner to what they had been several hours before, Frederick wondered just how long it was going to take him to get home.

* * *

_Did you really think I could kill Frederick off? Shame on you!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Just so I'm not confusing anyone I thought I'd mention that I'm jumping from one time frame to another with this story. Chapter 4 was set around 4 months before Chapter 3, and this one about 5 months after the events in ch4. Oh, and its going to take Frederick a while to get back - but not too long. Poor Anne though, she still believes he's dead :(_

_If anyone wants a more accurate timeline, let me know and I'll outline it in the next chapter._

* * *

"She had no right," she protested, pacing up and down in front of Harville who had taken a seat in her usual place on the breaker wall.

Harville said nothing but continued to watch her pace back and forth. It had been hard for him to imagine the small, caring woman, in a rage; but here she was.

One month after the birth of her son and her family had finally decided to visit. She had offered them the use of her former house but they had refused and put themselves up in the highest standing hotel in the area, insisting that Anne come and see them their rather than them going out anywhere.

Lyme after all, was not the type of place that a Baronet could be seen to be for any length of time.

The visit did not last long. She had brought Benjamin into the room with her and left with him just over half an hour later, not wanting to stay around to be further admonished by them.

Her father, upon seeing the child, had branded him a fairly well looking child though voiced his disappointment that she had not named him after his very self. For there was no finer name for a male child, in his opinion, than Walter.

Her sister had barely glanced at him. Preferring to tell her younger sister about all the changes they had made to the house. About how they had transformed her old room into a study. A room Anne thought, would get seldom used. Next came news about the Viscountes and her family.

Anne pretended that this news was new to her, unwilling to inform Elizabeth and her father that she had received a one or two letters from Miss Carteret over the previous months offering support and comfort from a distance, such as distant cousins should.

They had sat and conversed painfully for a while before Elizabeth spoke up.

"So," her sister began, "When is he going?"

"Who?" Anne had asked, looking up from the baby who had woken a little while earlier.

There was no sound from him however and she was content to stare at his eyes; such a clear blue in colour. Captain Harville had remarked that he had only seen such a colour once before, and that had been during his time in the East Indies, where the water was clear and sparkling.

"The child." Elizabeth managed to make the word sound bitter on the tongue.

"And where would he be going?" Anne had been perplexed then and felt the inkling of another emotion loitering on the edges.

"To an orphanage, or to stay with his relations."

Anne had stared at her sister then, too shocked at that moment to say anything. _Why would Elizabeth think?_

"I mean, I doubt any man would like to take on the responsibility of another man's child."

"Any man?" Anne had echoed.

Elizabeth scoffed, "For when you remarry." she said, "Surely you do not expect to remain as you are, living in filth and depravity out in the middle of nowhere. I mean, there is not even anyone of much notability here. How will meet someone of the same social standing? No," she said, as though the matter was decided, "He must be sent away."

Rather than risk an outright confrontation with her sister, something she was sure would end in blood being spilt, she silently gathered up her belongings and her son, and left the room.

As she descended down the stairs, she heard some half hearted calls for her to return, but she paid them no heed. She suspected that unless they happened to be at the same place at the same time, then that would be the last time she would willingly see both her father and elder sister.

"It is not unimaginable to think that you could, should you wish it, to marry again," Harville said, leaning forward and placing his chin upon his hands where they rested on his stick.

"Had I of never crossed paths with Frederick again, I doubt I would have ever married. No," she shook her head venomously. "I do not need to remarry, neither do I have the desire too."

"Frederick would not have wanted you to be unhappy for the rest of your life," Harville tried to counter, even though he knew it was useless.

He admired her tenacity, he had often thought the same of Benwick till the man had fallen for another not long after his beloved sister Phoebe had passed from this world. Harville had wondered at the man's devotion then, on how he could jump from the mourning of woman to the mooning over another.

"Then he should not have got himself killed," she said with force, whirling on him, the anger and resent that had been residing in her since her husbands death bubbling to the top in light of her sisters words.

In a second it was all gone and she felt the fight leave her. Making her way back across to the wall, she placed herself down by Harville, there shoulders barely touching. Margaret and him had been her rock during this whole period and she had felt herself become more ingrained into the family and as a friend. She took comfort from then when needed and they provided a solid base to lean on when she found things hard.

"I miss him," she said turning to him, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

Harville took her hand nearest to his and gripped it tightly as they both turned their gaze back out to the sea.

"So do I."


	6. Chapter 6

Timeline.

**26 February 1815** - Napoleon escapes Elba. Since the news probably took a few days to circulate, I think we can estimate that Frederick's proposal took place early March. I've gone with the 4th.

**14 April 1815** - Frederick and Anne get married in the parish church in Kellynch with Edward officiating. Nearly six months of wedded bliss is observed, mostly in Lyme.

**2nd September 1815** - An official letter arrives from Portsmouth and Frederick sets out to see what they want. Returns two days later (4th) to tell Anne about the mission.

**20th September 1815** - Frederick, Anne and Captain Harville travel to Portsmouth.

**23rd September 1815** - Frederick sets sail for Southern Africa. Anne and Harville travel back to Lyme.

**6th October 1815** - Anne confirms that she is about two months with child.

**21st December 1815** - HMS Aurora is set upon during a storm. Sinks with the lose of 187 men, 50 taken captive. Frederick and the cook, MacGregor land on one of the Azores (Chapter 2 & 4)

**10th January 1816** - The day Frederick was scheduled to return.

**31st January 1816** - Admiral Croft brings the news that Anne had been dreading.

**1st May 1816** - Anne gives birth to Benjamin Frederick Wentworth (Chapter 3)

**16th June 1817** - The Elliot's come for a visit (Chapter 5)

**July 1816** - Anne spends time at Upper cross (Chapter 7)

**21st December 1815 onwards** - Frederick attempts to find a way home (Chapter 6 & 8)

* * *

_Early February 1816_

The stars seemed brighter in this part of the world.

Or at least they looked brighter.

Perhaps he had just forgotten what the stars looked like from the pebbled beach at Lyme.

He sighed.

"Thinkin' o'home?" his companion asked.

Frederick turned his head, "Little else to think about."

His companion nodded, "And they'll off heard aboot us by now no doubt."

That was what troubled him the most. News had surely reached home by now of the Aurora's demise in the Atlantic with the loose of crew. He would be named among those lost. Anne would believe him to be dead.

Absently he fiddled with the ring on his left hand.

"Married?"

Frederick nodded. "You?"

"Aye. To the reddest haired, sharpest tongued Irish woman you'll ever meet. She's kept me right these ten years past."

They lapsed into another silence.

They had been travelling slowly round the coastline for the past thirty days at least. Perhaps longer. They weren't entirely sure of the date, a calendar being one of the many items that did not wash up on the shore behind them. Judging by the stars however, they estimated it was either late January or early February.

They had stayed for several days on the original beach they had landed on, in the vain hope that a ship would be passing within signalling distance.

They saw none.

Staying had one advantage though, in the form of various items that had obviously come from the Aurora being carried by the current and being washed ashore. They had managed to gather together a fairly good ration of supplies and other items, such as a compass and cutting knife.

After several days the bounty of items had trailed off and they found themselves formulating a plan. They would have to move from where they where. That was a given, but in which direction to go?

Frederick's knowledge of the Azores was limited. He knew that there where a few of them and that they fell under the control of the Portuguese, that they did have several small towns and docks but he did not know whether they where to the North, South, East or West.

They finally decided by flipping a rock. Unmarked they would head South. Marked they would head in a Northerly direction. The stone had fallen marked side up and it was decided.

They head out just after first light the very next morning.

The going was slow.

One would walk along the shoreline, picking up anything of interest, while the other headed a short distance into the forest area doing the same.

A sail recovered from the sea acted as a tent at night and they each took turns keeping watch.

It had not occurred to either of them, till they where several days into their journey round the island, to count the days. Frederick supposed that it didn't matter that much, they would reach where they where heading when they did, the date wouldn't matter.

"'Ave you thought about what we're going tae do when we reach somewhere?" the Scotsman asked. Pulling Frederick from his musings.

"If," he replied.

"No, when. We don't have no money, nor nothing tae barter with."

"How about we worry about that when we come to it?" Frederick said. "I'd be happy enough to be taken as a prisoner right now, and be ransomed back to the British."

"I'd rather not," his companion said.

When they did finally stubble upon some civilisation, they did so quite literally.

The shoreline had began to change. The white sandy beach had slowly transformed into a rocky outcrop, finally emerging as a cliff face and they where forced further inshore.

They had been walking along further inland, looking for a country road or even a residence. Nothing had been forthcoming so far till they had forced themselves through some particularly thick bushes when the ground suddenly disappeared from beneath their feet and they went tumbling down a hill side.

As they landed, and before the dust had settled, Frederick heard the clocking of several guns and as the cloud that surrounded them died down, he found himself staring down the barrel of several rifles.


	7. Chapter 7

_Personally, I wasn't too happy with the last chapter. But I think I just reached that point in the story, where I know how its going to end (have those two chapters finished) its just getting there._

_This is also a day or so late…blame it on the weekend._

* * *

July 1816

She missed the sea.

Sitting in the large gardens of Uppercross, looking out over the rolling hills, she decided that although she would always resent the sea for taking Frederick from her, it would always play a part in her life. She would always enjoy the countryside and the openness that it provided, but she couldn't see herself moving back here.

Lady Russell herself had offered her a place with her in Kellynch Lodge, and while she was honoured by that offer, it just didn't seem like the right option for her or her son. Not now, nor in the future.

It was the Musgroves who had invited her to spend some time with them and the reason she was here now. Rather than rejecting the offer outright when it arrived, as she had been apt to do in the weeks following the news of Fredericks death, she had set it aside and thought on it for awhile. Ultimately deciding that perhaps some time away would do her good.

It would give her the chance to spend some time with her family. The only branch she was still on good terms with.

She had not seen her younger sister or her family since Christmas when she had made a short visit to see her new niece. Amelia Elizabeth Musgrove had been born in late November and when Anne had arrived at the cottage several days before Christmas, Mary had still been confining herself to bed and proclaiming she might never move again.

She had quickly declared herself fit though, when the Elder Mr and Mrs Musgrove decided to hold a pre-Christmas dinner in honour of Anne joining them, and had joined them for the meal.

A long shadow appeared slowly on the grass at her feet, growing in size and distortion as the figure got closer to where she sat.

She knew who it was without turning round.

If she where perfectly honest, she wasn't all that surprised that he had sought her out.

She had been expecting it since her arrival a week ago and knew he had only been waiting till he found the right time, when there was no one else around and he could almost guarantee no interruptions. When he knew a bit of what he wanted to say while hoping that the rest would come naturally.

He sat down quietly next to her, not saying a word for a long time. She remained silent also and thus they stayed for a long while.

She eventually turned her head, observing him from the corner of her eye.

He was not the same man she had met over a year ago. Then again, neither was she.

She chuckled quietly to herself; it was such a reversal of positions.

He turned to her then, hearing her laugh.

"I am just thinking about the position we find ourselves now, and how different it was when we first met," she said honestly before he had chance to speak.

"You helped me out a lot. You let me see that there was a chance of moving on and coming to terms with my lose." he said, taking time over his words. "I'd like to help you in the same way. Will you let me know if there is anything I could do?"

"You are doing it right now," she told him, "Just by being here and offering me a listening ear when I need it."

He nodded but did not look all that convinced.

"You, my dear Captain Benwick, are showing me that in the darkness there is the possibility to find a small speck of light and holding onto that, watching it grow and following it out of the blackness. That I might live my life beyond what has happened."

He nodded again

"Frederick," she began after a pause, stopping to clear her throat of the lump that settled there each time she spoke, thought or heard his name. "He thought a great deal of you and considered you a most valuable friend. I hope that I can retain that friendship."

"I would be honoured to call you a friend." Benwick told her.

Anne smiled. "That is settled then."


	8. Chapter 8

_Almost done. An extra chapter for you today since I was late in updating over the weekend._

* * *

14th April 1816

The view from the window was magnificent.

Set high up in the hilly countryside, it had a good view over the harbour at its base and the village surrounding it. He could see the people milling about at the local market. It was a lovely place.

But he shouldn't be here.

On his first anniversary he should be at home, with Anne, enjoying the day together and celebrating the year they had spent as husband and wife.

He should not be stuck in the middle of no where, not knowing when he would return home. She must think him lost to her now, and how he longed to end the pain she must be suffering.

They had been residents here on the Azores Island of Santa Maria for nearly two months, and besides the first day or so when they had to convince their Portuguese captors that they where not French spies, things had gone well.

They had been put up by the Major of the small, but efficient infantry that patrolled the island, in a disused wing of his hillside manor house and allowed free roam of the island.

They had dismayed to here that the people of the island where not expecting a ship to visit them for several months, the waters around the island being very rough and temperamental at this time of year.

And if a ship did arrive, where was no guarantee that it would be heading towards the main shore of Europe. Santa Maria was a perfect stopping point of ships heading west to the coast of South America and Brazil where several thousand Portuguese natives had headed when Napoleon had invaded their country several years earlier. Where several thousand more where still travelling to each year.

Had they of been any closer to the main coast of Africa, he might have apprehended a ship and attempted to pilot himself across there. The only vessels the locals had however, where small fishing boats that they refused to take any further than the bay during the spring months.

With little else to do, Frederick had taken to writing everything down. He made several reports of the mission, the originals being lost when the ship went down, and of the events leading up to the sinking of the Aurora and his own journey afterwards.

He had written letters to his family and to Anne. He could not send them, but he needed to release what he wanted to tell them so writing was his only option.

His grasp of the Portuguese language increased in time and he often found himself in conversation with the locals about the history of the island and the struggles they had faced from pirates and corsairs. They had large amounts of contempt for the French, something Frederick found in common with them.

He often gathered a large crowd around him during the day, when they would ask him to recount the news of the last couple of months. Being so cut off from the outside world, they received news in bits and pieces. They cheered when he mentioned Napoleon's capture and exile to Elba, only to cry out in dismay at his escape.

The battle of Waterloo, which Frederick went into great detail about, fascinated them, though they could not quit grasp the amount of men who had taken part. There was perhaps a thousand of them in the small town, with several hundred more spread about the island. The idea of several hundred thousand men they just did not comprehend.

While he enjoyed enlightening them on the news from Europe and the wider world, it often left him thinking of home what was happening back there.

When he finally made it home, and he was determined he would, no matter how long it would take him, what news would they be telling him?

There where times when he woke in the middle of night, disorientated and unsure of where he was. There where times when he woke in a panic, covered in sweat and shaking from a dream he couldn't remember though it left him sick to his stomach, with an ache in his chest.

He berated and scolded himself in turn when he thought of Anne.

He knew she was unlikely to marry again, he had left her financially secure enough that she did not have too but if she believed him gone, then she deserved to be happy. He shuddered at the thought however, before becoming annoyed at himself for wishing her to be alone and miserable the rest of her life.

He suddenly straighten from his slouched position staring out the open window. Squinting, he held a hand up to cover his eyes from the sun.

There. Out on the horizon.

A ship.


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm in a good mood, so your getting yet another chapter today!_

_Oh, and this is going to sound so odd, but there is this advert on the tv in the UK at the moment about seriously strong cheese. Does anyone else think that the woman, the main woman who looks at them all like their mad when they go silent, looks like the Sophia Wentworth from the Persuasion with Amanda Root?_

_Or is it just me?_

_Just me?_

_Ok._

* * *

_2nd August 1816_

Portsmouth loomed on the horizon.

Frederick stood at the bow of the ship, his meagre belongings in a sac on his back.

From the arrival of the ship in Santa Maria, its porting there for a month, its journey to Gibraltar and then back to Portsmouth, had taken four months.

He could have jumped ship at Gibraltar and attempted to make it across land, but with things in Europe still not settled, it might have taken him even longer getting through the check points. That was if he made it alive.

As soon as the ship docked, and it was safe to do so, he left the vessel, thanking the Captain and his crew for getting him home safely. He knew it was protocol to stop in at the Navy offices on the dockside to check in on a return to port, but he surmised, that if he was listed as being dead then there was no need to do this.

Lyme was as he remembered it.

The house had he had been living in before he left was empty with the tell tale signs that no one had been there for a long time. When he saw that he began to worry that she wasn't there, that she'd moved back with her family and it would be even longer till he saw her again.

He took the road heading down to the shore and ended up walking along the beach for a while. For all she had done to him, for all the lose she had caused and how he resented her for it; the sea still called to him and he still felt like answering.

As he approached his friends old house in the small harbour his steps grew heavier and his mind began to play tricks on him. What if she wasn't here? What if something had happened? Would he find himself in a similar situation to Benwick?

Turning the corner into the small lane of houses he came to a stop.

There she was, standing with her back to him as she sorted the wood for the fire. When a log fell from the stack he automatically took a step towards her to help but pause as he saw her tense, sensing a figure behind her.

She turned slowly, her movements no longer out going and confident, and she did not bring her gaze to his face directly but trailed it up his body slowly. When she did lay eyes on his face, all the colour in her own vanished and she gripped the table behind her.

"Anne," he said, taking a step towards her. She tried to take a step backwards, shaking her head fiercely.

"Margaret!" she called, keeping her eyes wide and fixed on him as though he might vanish if she blinked even just the once.

"Anne?" he heard Margaret Harville say as she stepped from the house, "Is something," and she stopped dead when she followed Anne's gaze and saw him standing there.

With tears raining down her cheeks, "Tell me I'm not seeing things," she asked desperately, gesturing with a hand towards Frederick, "Please," she begged. "Tell me you see him too."

"Maybe there was something in the soup," Margaret said, a tear or two on her own face, "Cause I can see him too."

That was all Anne needed as she launched herself in Frederick's direction. He took two steps forward, opened his arms and braced himself. She hit him with such force that he staggered backwards a step or two, but he didn't let go.

Her hands came up to skim across his arms, chest and face, finally coming to rest back of his neck where she applied a little pressure, encouraging his face down to hers. He needed little encouragement and they came together solidly.

He found himself lost in the feel of her lips against the his, he body pressure tightly to his and the erratic beat of her heart through her chest. He could hear it in his own ears - or maybe that was his own, but it was a solid comforting sound and one he had missed.

Tearing her lips from his she buried her head in his chest and sobbed her heart out, clinging to him as though she might never let him go again. He clung back just as tightly. Gently he rocked them and spoke soothing words to her. He vaguely heard Margaret calling wildly for her husband and his friend appearing at the door to his house, letting loose a shocked shout of joy as he saw who it was.

Neither knew how long they stayed as such. Frederick finally began to feel her shake and her knees give way, so gathered her up in his arms and carried her indoors where he sat in an armchair, pulling her onto his lap and hugging her to his body.

He didn't say anything but closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel, touch and smell the person he had been without for several months. He felt Anne's breathing even out as she fell asleep on his chest and he must have followed suit shortly after as the sun had sunk below the horizon when Margaret shook him awake. The non-stop ride from Portsmouth finally catching up with him.

He silently followed Margaret through the house and upstairs to a small room where he placed Anne down on the bed contained within. Before leaving, Margaret gave him a quick hug of her own. She knew there would be a story behind how he had made it back, one that would outdo every other one she had ever heard before but that would come in due course.

She closed the door quietly behind her and he removed his boots and jacket before slipping into bed with Anne. He slid in behind her, placed an arm over her and hugged her back into his body. Drawing the covers up he placed a kiss on the top of her head before closing his eyes once more and drifting back off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

_I would like to thank each and everyone of you who have reviewed this story, from the bottom of my heart._

_The idea for this story had been floating around my head for a couple of months now, and last week I decided to start typing it out, not realising that it was basically going to write itself and be finished in just over a week! Had I have known, then this would have been up a lot earlier._

_The response to this, and to my other Persuasion fics, has been outstanding and I'd like to thank you all again for the support for those. You guys keep me writing._

_And, as you may have guessed, this is the end of this one. What's next I wonder?_

* * *

The bed was shaking and for a brief moment he believed he was back aboard the ship and that seeing Anne, of holding her in his arms, had been a torturous dream. As he slowly woke from a sleep brought on by complete and utter exhaustion, of having had next to no sleep over the past few nights in desperation of getting back here, of getting back to her.

It wasn't the bed that was shaking though, but Anne.

Encased the protective circle of his arms, her tears had returned with force and her body shook with the effort she was exerting to keep quite as to not wake anyone in the small house by the sea.

He spoke quietly to her, smoothing back her hair from her face and trying to get her to look at him. She kept her head buried in his chest though unwilling for a long time to look at him, fearing that it would break the spell she believed she was under.

"I thought it was a dream," she confessed finally, pressing herself closer to him. "I thought I would wake and you would still be dead, lost somewhere beneath the waves in the southern Atlantic.

"I'm here," he promised her.

There had been long nights when he just couldn't sleep and his mind had often journeyed back to her. Sometimes his imagination had been so vivid that he had gone to sleep thinking things where alright and that she was sleeping soundly in his arms, only to wake in the morning and find it was all just a dream.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again," she whispered into his shoulder as her tears subsided and she relaxed against him.

"Funny," he mumbled, sleep closing on him once again. His eyelids fluttered shut and he snuggled further under the covers, Anne clasped firmly to his side. "I was going to tell you the same thing."

When he woke a time later and found himself alone, he thought his mind was once again playing tricks on him. There where telltale signs that she had been there; her dress on the chair in the corner of the room, her scent on the pillow, the way his jacket had been neatly hung up neatly when he had merely tossed it to the ground earlier on that night.

It was still dark outside and he wondered what she could be doing up at this time of night.

He extracted himself carefully and quietly from the bed, suppressing a groan when his muscles protested at more movement, and made his way from the room and down the stairs.

He found her sitting by a chair in the living area, a small fire going in the fireplace, nursing an infant with a bottle.

The sight made his heart ache, for he had often seen her in his mind with children and it had so very nearly not come to pass. Once things where more settled, he hoped they could start a family of their own. Perhaps not one to rival the size of the Harville's, which he thought must have grown whilst he had been away if this child was any indication, but certainly one large enough to love and cherish for many years to come.

He was not sure how he stood at the foot of the steps just watching. After some time Anne became aware of the other presence in the room and turned. Compared to how she had been hours earlier, the calm and serene picture she presented at that moment, was calming to him as well and he felt another layer of tension, apprehension and worry just roll of him and a new wave of sleep hit him.

"Would you like to hold your son?" she asked quietly, aware of the sleeping infant in her arms.

All thoughts of sleep vanished in an instant. A son.

He was a father.

She held the baby out to him and he gathered the sleeping child gently in his arms, carefully not to jostle him and wake him, he held him close to his chest and sat on the chair next to the fire, and spent a long time just staring at him, memorising every dimple, each finger and toe (ten of each) and the feel of his skin beneath his trailing fingers.

Anne watched in amazement and joy at the meeting of father and son. It was exactly how she had pictured it, long ago when she had still thought he was coming home, to when she believed him to be still alive.

He looked up at her then, the love and pride shining out from his eyes making her own well up again. The tears raining down her cheeks matched by those on his. He stood then, taking the short distance across the hearth to join her on the settee. Freeing an arm, he wrapped it about her shoulders and pulled her to him. She sank into his side and he bestowed a kiss on her temple, whispering his love and devotion.

That was how the Harville's found them hours later. Both cuddled up on the couch.

Handing his son over to Anne, Frederick stood and embraced the man that he considered as another brother.

And when they parted neither man commented on the wetness of the others eyes, they where meant to be men after all. Margaret Harville refused to keep her emotions in check and happily sobbed into his shoulder for a good minute before pulling away and smacking him soundly in the chest, having a go at him for worrying them when he had been alright all along.

They sat down together for breakfast, and Frederick recounted his tale. They all listened intently and then filled him in on the events he had missed while he had been gone. They talked for many hours, reacquainting themselves with one another.

Letters where dispatched to everyone they thought should be notified. And to others as an after thought.

"You're happy to stay here," Margaret said later on that evening, "Just till you get your bearings."

He looked at Anne then to find her gazing right back at him.

"A few days," he agreed, speaking to Margaret but continuing to look at Anne. "Then, we're going home."

Anne nodded. "Home."

"Home."


End file.
